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Approach of the Great Ships

by Joseph Berry © 2004

Moss listened wide-eyed as the crew of the Dolphin's Nose swapped tall tails. One man spoke of dodging a dozen hungry whirlpools in the Death Straits that protected their homeland from outsiders. Another told of a daring raid on a Krobbolyte port, sneaking in and out again with only his cunning and his longsight to protect him.

The men laughed, and quaffed urchin gin, glad to be back home after their dangerous voyages. Moss sat on a barrel, bursting to speak.

"I'm gonna be a navigator when I'm old enuff," he declared when the conversation hit a lull. The men stared at him in amazement, and then fell about with laughter once more.

"Ya little maggit!" first mate Stave roared, "ya couldn't spot a whale in ya bathtub!" Moss flushed scarlet, as men slapped Stave's back in approval.

Captain Narwhal did not join in, but wore a broad smile that revealed an expensive gold tooth.

"You must know that only the best longseers have a chance of joining the fleet little Moss," he said kindly. "Most of your fellow grass-flatteners are too busy sitting on their behinds to make the effort."

Moss glared at the sniggering crew.

"I can longsee!" he protested, "I practice everyday while I'm workin' on the harbour. I'm not a grass-flattener!"

He leapt to his feet as he saw their sceptical looks. "Alright, I challenge any of ya! The one who can spot the furthest gull wins!"

Moss turned from the amused crew, and stared out to sea. His eyes snapped closed. His pupils moved rapidly beneath the lids.

He was longseeing.

In Moss's mind the ocean leapt towards him, and then began to flash past beneath. It had been a nauseating experience at first, but now he found it exhilarating. Moss felt as though he was flying over the waves like a bird, but his body never left the barrel on which it stood.

On the dock, first mate Stave was scratching his head.

"'ang on a minute. If ee sees the furthest, 'ow do we know ee's really seen summat?"

Captain Narwhal slapped his officer's now stinging back.

"I can see why I promoted you Stave. Nothing gets past you."

Suddenly Moss' body shook violently, an involuntary quiver that the men recognised instantly. They had all experienced it at some point, though they did not like to admit it: Moss had seen something with his longsight that scared him.

The crew of the Dolphin's Nose scrambled to their feet, and focussed through the gin haze.

"Prob'ly just a shark," Stave muttered, as he cast out his longsight towards the ocean.

A moment later though, a shudder ran through the tough old man's rugged frame. Out at sea, barely visible to the naked eye, five Great Ships loomed high and terrible. Organic black tar crawled eerily over the ancient planking of the hulls. On the decks, Krobbolyte warriors were scurrying in preparation for an assault on the Longseers' island.

"Th... that's impossible!" Stave shouted, as his longsight snapped back into his body like elastic, "those monsters have never managed to cross the Death Straits before! Never in two thousand years!"

Moss's face was white with shock.

"I never realised... " he murmured, "I've heard the stories, but their faces... they look like devils."

"Worse 'en that boy," Stave said sadly, "worse 'en that."

* * *

Word of the invasion fleet flashed around the island. The Longseer public flapped and wailed. Their long blissful isolation was over, but no-one had predicted this moment. No defence plans had been made. No evacuation course plotted. Their defeat was inevitable.

* * *

The first Great Ship, the Vengeance, smashed through the pier where Moss had worked as though it were built of twigs. Immediately a deluge of hemp rope rained down from the deck. Moss looked up in fear as the Krobbolyte soldiers began to abseil down. He could smell their damp, fetid fur already. Howling calls echoed in the air.

"Moss, come with me!"

Captain Narwhal beckoned Moss, his curious gold ring glinting in the sun.

"I know a way off the island!"

Moss followed the Captain gratefully, fleeing the murderous cries of the Krobbolytes. Ill-prepared Longseer troops rushed past them as they left the docks and wound through the streets to the edge of town.

"What about your crew?" Moss asked, as they ran down a steep cliffside path towards Coral Bay.

"They can take care of themselves... just hurry!"

In the water off Coral Bay a large clipper ship bobbed. Flying on it's mask was a flag that Moss did not recognise, despite his work at the main harbour.

He turned to question the Captain, just as something blunt and heavy connected with his head. Moss's body slumped unconscious to the path.

* * *

"I'm sorry Moss, business is business."

Moss focussed his blurred eyes on Captain Narwhal. New gold glittered on the man's hands and wrists.

"They would have worked out a route through the Death Straits eventually," Narwhal continued. "I just gave them a quicker solution. "

Moss tried to move, but his arms were bound. Ahead of him was a curving wall of bare wooden boards. The room felt as though it were moving, bobbing gently.

"No!" he breathed in terror, as the damp smell of the Krobbolytes assailed him.

He knew then that he was on board one of the Great Ships.

"It is so much easier to avoid the whirlpools and reefs, when you have the help of a Longseer," Narwhal said.

He smiled wickedly at Moss.

"It looks like you've got your wish after all. You're a navigator now... "

From outside on the island, Moss heard a long, drawn out, scream. But for once, he had no desire to use his longsight.

x x x




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